The Astronomy of the Bible, E. Walter Maunder [the reading strategies book TXT] 📗
- Author: E. Walter Maunder
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The most striking notes of the Jehovistic narrative are,—the incident of the sending out of the raven and the dove; the account of Noah's sacrifice; and the distinction made between clean beasts and beasts that are not clean—the command to Noah being, "Of every clean beast thou shalt take to thee by sevens, the male and his female: and of beasts that are not clean by two, the male and his female." The significant points of distinction between the two accounts are that the Priestly writer gives the description of the ark, the Flood prevailing above the mountains, the grounding on Mount Ararat, and the bow in the cloud; the Jehovistic gives the sending out of the raven and the dove, and the account of Noah's sacrifice, which involves the recognition of the distinction between the clean and unclean beasts and the more abundant provision of the former. He also lays emphasis on the Lord's "smelling a sweet savour" and promising never again to smite everything living, "for the imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth."
The chief features of the Babylonian story of the Deluge are as follows:—The God Ae spoke to Pir-napistim, the Babylonian Noah—
Leave what thou hast, see to thy life.
Destroy the hostile and save life.
Take up the seed of life, all of it, into the midst of the ship.
The ship which thou shalt make, even thou.
Let its size be measured;
Let it agree as to its height and its length.'"
The description of the building of the ship seems to have been very minute, but the record is mutilated, and what remains is difficult to translate. As in the Priestly narrative, it is expressly mentioned that it was "pitched within and without."
The narrative proceeds in the words of Pir-napistim:—
All I possessed I collected it, of silver;
All I possessed I collected it, of gold;
All I possessed I collected it, the seed of life, the whole.
I caused to go up into the midst of the ship,
All my family and relatives,
The beasts of the field, the animals of the field, the sons of the artificers—all of them I sent up.
The God Šamaš appointed the time—
Muir Kukki—'In the night I will cause the heavens to rain destruction,
Enter into the midst of the ship, and shut thy door.'
That time approached—
Muir Kukki—In the night the heavens rained destruction
I saw the appearance of the day:
I was afraid to look upon the day—
I entered into the midst of the ship, and shut my door
There arose from the foundation of heaven a dark cloud:
Swiftly it swept, and . . . .
Like a battle against the people it sought.
Brother saw not brother.
The people were not to be recognized. In heaven
The gods feared the flood, and
They fled, they ascended to the heaven of Anu.
The gods kenneled like dogs, crouched down in the enclosures.
Covered were their lips in the assemblies,
Six days and nights
The wind blew, the deluge and flood overwhelmed the land.
The seventh day, when it came, the storm ceased, the raging flood,
Which had contended like a whirlwind,
Quieted, the sea shrank back, and the evil wind and deluge ended.
I noticed the sea making a noise,
And all mankind had turned to corruption.
For twelve measures the region arose.
The ship had stopped at the land of Nisir.
The mountain of Nisir seized the ship, and would not let it pass.
The first day and the second day the mountains of Nisir seized the ship, and would not let it pass.
I sent forth a dove, and it left;
The dove went, it turned about,
But there was no resting-place, and it returned.
I sent forth a swallow, and it left,
The swallow went, it turned about,
But there was no resting-place, and it returned.
I sent forth a raven, and it left,
The raven went, the rushing of the waters it saw,
It ate, it waded, it croaked, it did not return.
I sent forth (the animals) to the four winds, I poured out a libation,
I made an offering on the peak of the mountain,
Seven and seven I set incense-vases there,
In their depths I poured cane, cedar, and rosewood (?).
The gods smelled a savour;
The gods smelled a sweet savour.
The gods gathered like flies over the sacrificer.
Then the goddess Sîrtu, when she came,
Raised the great signets that Anu had made at her wish:
'These gods—by the lapis-stone of my neck—let me not forget;
These days let me remember, nor forget them for ever!
Let the gods come to the sacrifice,
But let not Bêl come to the sacrifice,
For he did not take counsel, and made a flood,
And consigned my people to destruction.'
Then Bêl, when he came,
Saw the ship. And Bêl stood still,
Filled with anger on account of the gods and the spirits of heaven.
'What, has a soul escaped?
Let not a man be saved from the destruction.'
Ninip opened his mouth and spake.
He said to the warrior Bêl:
'Who but Ae has done the thing?
And Ae knows every event.'
Ae opened his mouth and spake,
He said to the warrior Bêl:
'Thou sage of the gods, warrior,
Verily thou hast not taken counsel, and hast made a flood.
The sinner has committed his sin,
The evil-doer has committed his misdeed,
Be merciful—let him not be cut off—yield, let not perish.
Why hast thou made a flood?
Let the lion come, and let men diminish.
Why hast thou made a flood?
Let the hyena come, and let men diminish.
Why hast thou made a flood?
Let a famine happen, and let the land be (?)
Why hast thou made a flood?
Let Ura (pestilence) come, and let the land be (?)'"[176:1]
Of the four records before us, we can only date one approximately. The constellations, as we have already seen, were mapped out some time in the third millennium before our era, probably not very far from 2700 b.c.
When was the Babylonian story written? Does it, itself, afford any evidence of date? It occurs in the eleventh tablet of the Epic of Gilgamesh, and the theory has been started that as Aquarius, a watery constellation, is now the eleventh sign of the zodiac, therefore we have in this epic of twelve tablets a series of solar myths founded upon the twelve signs of the zodiac, the eleventh giving us a legend of a flood to correspond to the stream of water which the man in Aquarius pours from his pitcher.
If this theory be accepted we can date the Epic of Gilgamesh with much certainty: it must be later, probably much later, than 700 b.c. For it cannot have been till about that time that the present arrangement of the zodiacal signs—that is to say with Aries as the first and Aquarius as the eleventh—can have been adopted. We have then to allow for the growth of a mythology with the twelve signs as its motif. Had this supposed series of zodiacal myths originated before 700 b.c., before Aries was adopted as the leading sign, then the Bull, Taurus, would have given rise to the myth of the first tablet and Aquarius to the tenth, not to the eleventh where we find the story of the flood.
Assyriologists do not assign so late a date to this poem, and it must be noted that the theory supposes, not merely that the tablet itself, but that the poem and the series of myths upon which it was based, were all later in conception than 700 b.c. One conclusive indication of its early date is given by the position in the pantheon of Ae and Bêl. Ae has not receded into comparative insignificance, nor has Bêl attained to that full supremacy which, as Merodach, he possesses in the Babylonian Creation story. We may therefore put on one side as an unsupported and unfortunate guess the suggestion that the Epic of Gilgamesh is the setting forth of a series of zodiacal myths.
Any legends, any mythology, any pantheon based upon the zodiac must necessarily be more recent than the zodiac; any system involving Aries as the first sign of the zodiac must be later than the adoption of Aries as the first sign, that is to say, later than 700 b.c. Systems arising before that date would inevitably be based upon Taurus as first constellation.
We cannot then, from astronomical relationships, fix the date of the Babylonian story of the Flood. Is it possible, however, to form any estimate of the comparative ages of the Babylonian legend and of the two narratives given in Genesis, or of either of these two? Does the Babylonian story connect itself with one of the Genesis narratives rather than the other?
The significant points in the Babylonian story are these:—the command to Pir-napistim to build a ship, with detailed directions; the great rise of the flood so that even the gods in the heaven of Anu feared it; the detailed dating of the duration of the flood; the stranding of the ship on the mountain of Nisir; the sending forth of the dove, the swallow, and their return; the sending forth of the raven, and its non-return; the sacrifice; the gods smelling its sweet savour; the vow of remembrance of the goddess by the lapis-stone necklace; the determination of the gods not to send a flood again upon the earth, since sin is inevitable from the sinner. To all these points we find parallels in the account as given in Genesis.
But it is in the Priestly narrative that we find the directions for the building of the ship; the great prevalence of the flood even to the height of the mountains; the stranding of the ship on a mountain; and the bow in the clouds as a covenant of remembrance—this last being perhaps paralleled in the Babylonian story by the mottled (blue-and-white) lapis necklace of the goddess which she swore by as a remembrancer. There is therefore manifest connection with the narrative told by the Priestly writer.
But it is in the Jehovistic narrative, on the other hand, that we find the sending forth of the raven, and its non-return; the sending forth of the dove, and its return; the sacrifice, and the sweet savour that was smelled of the Lord; and the determination of the Lord not to curse the earth any more for man's sake, nor smite any more every living thing, "for the imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth." There is, therefore,
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